#that everyone was in love with and terrified of all at the same time

[hanniesluvr]

drunk in love | yjh

NSFW | MDNI!!

genre: friends -> fwb -> lovers, angst, smut, fluff

pairing: yoon jeonghan x fem!reader

WC: 6.7k

cw: drinking, angry jeonghan bc i said so, smut, exhibitionism pretty much, spanking, degradation (he calls you a "slut" and "whore" a couple times :3), unprotected sex, creampie, choking, cucking (poor josh but also he had it coming), pet names ("pretty girl", "baby", and "princess"), oral (f rec), little bit of butt stuff, mc has a LOT of internal thoughts/ dialog lol, possessive jeonghan, possessive jeonghan, and possessive jeonghan. lmk if i missed anything !!

synopsis: when a game of truth, dare, or drink with the boys turns to shit (thanks to hoshi and josh), jeonghan has no choice but to prove himself to be the best dick you've ever had ): (SPOILER: he is. oh he most definitely IS the best dick you've ever had)

! nsfw content below the cut. mdni !

you’ve known the boys for years.

you’d met mingyu back in your senior year of highschool. both of you being on the friendly, outgoing side of introversion, he knew he had to introduce you to his rather large group of friends once you guys graduated.

and wow was your life was never the same.

you had a group of down to earth boys (men) who all looked after you like no one else had. a friend group that people could only ever dream of. no one got upset if you chose to hang out with only one of them for a day, rather than the whole group. if you wanted to go out clubbing with your girlfriends, they all knew you had 13 body guard options to call before heading out. and the best part, your best friend of the group might as well be a professional chef. you never had to worry about going hungry or even cooking as long as you had mingyu around.

other than mingyu, you ended up gravitating toward minghao, jihoon, seungcheol, and jeonghan. almost entirely separate, but sometimes you, seungcheol, and jeonghan would go out on a weeknight for some 2am ihop.

the last thing you or anyone else had expected however, was for you and jeonghan to develop a “situationship” of sorts together.

over the last couple months, you both started developing what you thought were strictly sexual feelings toward each other. now, you weren’t so sure. you knew your feelings were turning into something far deeper than just lust, but you quickly tried to shut them down in fear of ruining your initial friendship with him. tried to. you also were terrified to face those feelings because… you had no idea how he felt. other than the occasional secret or rant that he needed to share with you that he couldn’t share with the boys, jeonghan was pretty emotionally reserved. you had NO idea how he actually felt about you beyond friendly and horny.

until that night.

-

truth, dare, or drink was a game that you played with the boys every once in awhile when you guys were feeling frisky. normally, it came to one of your brains once you guys had already been drinking through the night.

in tonight’s game, jeonghan thought it’d be funny to dare jihoon to lean over and give you a kiss. childish. so childish. you could tell he just didn’t have any better idea in his buzzed brain.

“awww don’t be a pussy, jihoon!” jeonghan taunted him. he was leaning backward due to you being sandwiched between the two boys at the table, jihoon to your left, jeonghan to your right.

“nah i’m not touching her, hannie. you’re funny” jihoon chuckled, throwing back the clear liquid.

“heyyyy rude!” you pouted, crossing your arms playfully, a smile threatening to pull at your mouth.

“tsss…” jihoon put down the shot glass. “jeonghan would kill me, y/n” he chuckled. then, “ow!” he yelled, still laughing.

you whipped your head to jeonghan who was… glaring at jihoon? he’d smacked him upside the head and you had no idea why. you thought jihoon making that comment was just to poke fun at the fact that everyone knew you and jeonghan were basically fuck buddies. however, jeonghan didn’t find it very funny for whatever reason. you playfully pushed his face telling him to lighten up. to that he faintly smiled before putting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together in front of his face. he looked like a cartoon villain. what was he so upset about?

“anyways…” you were the next to talk. “soonyoung! your turn!” you enthused leaning back in your seat to look at the boy to the right of jeonghan.

soonyoung jumped out of his seat before nearly screaming, “Y/N!”

“oh fuck.” jihoon mumbled looking into his lap. you broke eye contact with soonyoung to look at jihoon in confusion.

“i’m so sorry to do this.” you looked back up at soonyoung. what the fuck is going on?

“man i swear, if you don’t keep your mouth shut,” jihoon stood up from his chair.

“what? i have to ask!”

“no, no you don’t.” jihoon’s voice was threateningly low, and you now thought you had a hunch as to what’s about to happen. your heart started to race.

“is it true that you and hoon hooked up at last year’s halloween party?!”

“i’m gonna beat your fucking ass-“

you pushed your chair out blocking jihoon’s path before he could follow through. you shot your arm out for good measure to make sure he didn’t try to pass you. he silently turned around and sat back in his chair.

when you turned back around to face soonyoung, you couldn’t help but feel jeonghan’s eyes burning holes into you along with everyone else’s.

“dude, why?” you asked in a low tone.

“whaaaat the game was getting boring! i had to spice things up a bit,” he teased putting a hand on his hip before pointing his finger in your face over jeonghan’s head. “now answer the question or take a shot missy. either way, we’ll know the answer.”

you glared at him intensely sitting back down in your chair and quietly saying “it’s true,” before reaching for the shot in front of you and slamming it anyways. you needed it. you felt jeonghan’s eyes on the side of your face and you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. you just locked eyes with mingyu across the table, knowing that even with his shock, his gaze would comfort you nonetheless. it worked. his face quickly went from a “what the fuck?” expression to a reassuring “we’ll talk about this later” look.

“ahem”

no.

“that’s interesting,” josh said from the head of the table.

“josh!” you, seungcheol and mingyu yelled at the same time. they also knew what joshua had to have been thinking, and didn’t want you to endure more embarrassment.

“ i thought i was your only little secret,” he said in a condescending tone, crossing his arms.

your face was hot. “it happened years ago josh!” you were yelling from your seat. “and we haven’t talked about it since! why are you even bringing it up? who cares!”

SLAM! you flinched. jeonghan had punched the table.

“i fucking do!” he yelled shooting up from his chair. “while we’re here,” his voice dropped, placing his palms on the table, leaning forward glancing at everyone. “would anyone else like to confess to fucking y/n?”

“jeonghan,” you reached your hand up to rest on his arm and you felt his muscles stiffen.

“it’s not like that,” jihoon followed up, trying to reassure him. jeonghan wouldn’t look at him. “it was over a year ago. it wasn’t important then, and it’s not important now.”

“it still fucking happened,” he looked over his shoulder down at you. “and you didn’t tell me about it.” his tone was laced with what could only be described as anguish.

“doesn’t seem like she’s told anyone,” josh pettily adds before taking a sip of whatever drink he’d made for himself before the game started.

now you were the one to punch the table but you didn’t stand up. “dammit josh! jihoon and i both agreed we’d pretend like it never happened. it was a mistake. and it happened years after you and i hooked up so why would i tell you out of everyone?! i didn’t even tell mingyu!” you were shaking in your seat. your breath rapid as you were hitting the peak of your anger induced high. shitfaced josh didn’t know when to stop. sober josh would never even slightly push anyone’s buttons the way drunk josh was vigorously punching yours right now (and jeonghan’s).

“well it seems you told mingyu and cheol about us, so what’s the reason for that? was i too good to forget?”

before jeonghan could even start to move toward him you stood up, forcefully holding him back by his shoulder. he froze. “josh…” you started, still keeping your hand on jeonghan to make sure he didn’t try anything. “i told them because i was fucking humiliated, and couldn’t believe that i fucked you.” you spat. “is that what you wanted to hear?” you could’ve sworn in that moment, all of jeonghan’s tension shifted to josh because as jeonghan found his way back into his chair, josh stood up. it didn’t phase you in the slightest.

“you’re fucking lying, y/n. i had to have been the best you ever-”

“fucking watch yourself man,” seungcheol warned, also getting out of his seat to defend you and jeonghan, his best friend.

“oh what? did you fuck her too?”

“that’s it!” jeonghan shot back out of his chair charging toward him.

luckily seungcheol was at the chair right next to josh and managed to get to him before jeonghan, stepping in front of him as some sort of human shield. jeonghan stopped in his tracks, mere inches away from his best friend.

“cheol, move.” he growled.

“walk away jeonghan.” seungcheol tried to calm him down.

“i’m not walking the fuck away. move or i’ll move you myself.”

“hannie, it’s not worth it,” you chimed in, making your way to him. “he [josh] isn’t worth it. what we did isn’t worth it.” joshua scoffed at your comment. you tried to ignore him, knowing that if sober josh was in there somewhere, he was telling his drunk self to just shut the fuck up and go along with all of it. although you really were ashamed of that hookup. you guys were like 19 at the time after all.

“look,” jeonghan turns around to face you. “jihoon? i get it. don’t ask me how or why, but it’s not much of a shock to me. i can suck it up over that.” he pointed his arm out behind him straight at josh, still looking at you. “but him? fucking joshua?” his voice nearly breaking at the end.

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?” josh mumbled.

you and jeonghan ignored him.

“it happened years ago hannie.” it suddenly dawned on you how intense this simple game of truth or dare had turned. as you and jeonghan stared at each other in silence, everyone else waiting for what was gonna happen next, you had a million thoughts running through your mind. why does he care so much ? is it because josh is one of his best friends and he can’t believe josh didn’t tell him? is he… jealous? no. maybe?

it was almost like jeonghan could hear the questions in your head. his face turned into something small and ashamed as he slowly lowered his head looking down at the ground. one last thought was about to run through your head. is he like in lo-

then seungkwan broke the silence, clearing his throat. you both whipped your heads to the other end of the table. everyone else still staring at the two of you. “why don’t we just continue the game. no more stupid bullshit, soonyoung.”

you took a deep breath. “i think i like the sound of that boo,” you held your hand out for jeonghan to take and he did so hesitantly. not until the two of you were fully seated did seungcheol make his way back to his seat. everyone’s eyes moved to josh still standing at the end of table… waiting for him to sit.

“josh?” mingyu spoke up. it was almost like he snapped him out of a trance.

“yeah! yeah let’s keep playing,” he blurted sitting back down.

“alright well i guess it’s my turn then,” seungcheol nervously chuckled. “jun! i dare you to take a shot!”

“what?” jun laughed. collectively the tension in the room withered away as everyone started laughing softly, giving seungcheol confused looks, except for josh. he just sat, straight faced.

“yeah, you’ve barely drank tonight! cmon! either way you have to take a shot soooo…” seokmin added.

“okay okay,” jun smiled while leaning over the table for the bottle.

once he took the shot, everyone carefully looked to joshua who was clearly faking his enthusiasm now. “okay well… i gotta go with y/n!” he said in such a deceptively happy tone, you knew he wasn’t over what had just finally ended for you and literally everyone else at the table.

vernon spoke up for the first time since his last turn probably 15 minutes ago, “please don’t be a dick dude.” he casually took a sip of his drink.

“don’t worry, don’t worryyyy. i just gotta ask her something.”

you watched jeonghan’s face as he stared at his drink in front of him. his jaw was clenched so tight you thought he might shatter his teeth. you put your hand on his thigh under the table to silently tell him you wish josh would shut up just as bad as he did. “why don’t you just leave her alone man?” jeonghan asked calmly not looking away from his glass.

“well i would but there’s just this burning question i have in my head that i can’t shake,” josh was slurring a bit but still thinking about his next words wisely. “y/n,” he was staring into your soul, and you did the same to him, not backing down. “was i not the best you’ve ever had?”

“no,” you immediately answered. “no you weren’t. why do you think i never mentioned it again?” jeonghan smiled to himself looking down in his lap, grabbing your hand that was on his thigh. the gesture was oddly sweet in this bitter situation.

“oh? well then who was the best hm?” josh followed up.

“oh, jeonghan! hands down,” you didn’t even hesitate. his grip on your hand tightened, the grin on his face widening as his eyes stayed locked in his lap. you even heard jihoon softly chuckle behind you.

“bullshit,” josh accused. jeonghan quickly looked up at him, tilting his head ever so slightly. “no way he’s giving it to you better than i did.”

after that comment, everyone collectively started yelling at him to just go to sleep or leave the game, anything to get him to stop his petty remarks. including you. you were still yelling when jeonghan turned to you, cupping your face, “shut the fuck up,” he whispered before grabbing your wrist and forcefully pulling you away from the table. he stopped at the end by josh’s chair.

“fine!” jeonghan exclaimed, silencing everyone. he then leaned in to josh’s ear, “i’ll just let you hear how much better im giving it to her.” and with that jeonghan was dragging you up the stairs at an aggressive pace, not even giving anyone the opportunity to respond.

once you reached the top of the stair case he spun you around in front of him so you were walking backwards. you passed the banister as he started taking off your shirt. your bare chest on display for anyone to see had they looked up from the table down below. you couldn’t care less.

“kiss me,” you whimpered trying not to stumble backward as he’s fondling with the button of your pants. he obeyed, eagerly crashing his lips into yours as you both neared his room. he started turning you to the left and you knew you’d reached your destination. he didn’t push you all the way into his room though.

“if it gets to be too much say ‘stop’,” he breathed before pushing you against his open door and dropping to his knees, immediately pulling your pants down. you stepped out of them without a second thought. is he just gonna fuck me against his open bedroom door?

“fuck!” you gasped out as he dove in after your clothed core. i guess the answer is yes.

“jesus y/n,” he growled moving your underwear to the side. “you’re fucking soaked already,” he continued to lap at your pussy, the annoying fabric now out of the way.

“mmm liked you getting m-mad,” you whispered, not wanting the others to hear your confession. you knew it sounded pathetic.

jeonghan groaned into you in response. you liked him fuming over the thought of someone else fucking you better than he did? if his dick wasn’t pushing to break free from his sweats before, it sure was now.

“fuck, you’re such a slut y/n,” he slurred, now grabbing at your underwear, ripping it on each side down the seams and throwing them right across the hall into josh’s open room.

“hannie what the fuck?” you bemoaned. you’d just bought the lacy fabric the other day for him to admire, not ruin. the fact that he threw them in josh’s room couldn’t be less of a concern to you right now.

he stood up putting his hand around your neck, firmly pressing you against the door. “what?” he asked innocently, taunting you before crashing his lips back into yours. you moaned into the kiss, desperate for him to touch you again.

as if he’d read your mind, he used his free hand to pull down the waistband of his sweats, finally letting his dick breathe. he put his cock in between your legs, basically fucking your thighs. the subtle friction against your clit was enough to send you spiraling. you were over his teasing and torture.

“hannie, please,” you panted.

“please what?” he mocked, still rutting against the heat between your legs.

“please fuck me,” you whined.

it wasn’t good enough for him. “what? i’m sorry baby,” baby? “i don’t think josh can hear you.”

you were suddenly reminded of the circumstances surrounding the current situation you were in. you felt yourself turn beet red.

“remember, you can tell me to stop,” he whispered to you, noticing your complexion.

“no, no don’t stop,” you begged.

he smiled maniacally. “okay. so again, i don’t think josh could hear what you said,” his voice rising in the second half.

“please jeonghan, please fuck me. please!” you cried, knowing damn well that josh and unfortunately, everyone else could hear your desperate words.

“such a good little whore for me aren’t you?” his grip on your neck tightened, his other hand grabbing his cock, lining himself up with your entrance. you lifted your leg to give him easier access.

he pushed past your folds and you winced at the slight stretch, but you fit jeonghan like a glove. ever since the first time you guys had sex it almost felt like you were… made for each other in a way.

“you okay?” he nearly wheezed, trying to hold himself back from going completely animalistic on you in this moment. wanting to claim you as his for everyone to hear… for josh to hear.

fuck josh…

he barely let you nod your head before snapping his hips, thrusting his cock into you so fast you swear you saw stars. the squeal that escaped your throat was something of pure filth and you knew that by this point, josh had to have felt like a fucking idiot for everything he said.

jeonghan moved his hands to your thighs, hoisting you up, your back still flat against his door, his cock buried deep inside you. “i’m going to absolutely ruin you and your pretty little pussy,” he fucked himself deeper into you if that was even possible, “not even gonna be able to walk back down these stairs without my help,” he panted.

“mmmph hannie~” were your last whimpering words before he started brutally fucking himself in and out of your sopping cunt. you were a blubbering mess, whining and crying out like a bitch in heat.

“dammit y/n how are you always this t-tight,” jeonghan groaned before swallowing your sounds in a sloppy, wet kiss. his tongue desperately darted into your mouth to dance with yours and you were more than willing to let it in. your tongues danced together not so elegantly as his dick was thrusting into you with determination, his door thudding against the wall to the rhythm he’d set, and you moaning uncontrollably into his mouth.

you started to wonder what everyone downstairs was doing. especially josh.

“mmm wait wait wait hannie wait,” you put your hands on his shoulders putting enough distance between your bodies just to speak.

“i-i feel bad for everyone downstairs. should we keep doing this?” you whispered, giggling a little as the gravity of the situation really started weighing on you.

“i really don’t give a fuck about everyone downstairs.” he kissed you deeply. “unless it really makes you uncomfortable, then we’ll stop.”

“i’m not really uncomfortable just… feel bad.”

“well don’t. and remember how this all started?”

he was right.

“you’re right,” you threw your arms around his neck, attacking his lips with your own, taking control of the situation.

he let your legs down, now gripping your waist, pulling your naked body closer to him. you spun the two of you around so he was against the door. you pulled away from your kiss to lift his shirt over his head and throw it into his room. you then dropped to your knees, almost mirroring his actions from earlier. you pulled his sweats and underwear down to his ankles and he kicked them off to the side.

“fuck hannie,” you moaned, clenched around nothing as you were eye level with his cock. jeonghan could’ve came just at the sight of you gawking over his dick beneath him.

“y/n as much as i’d love to feel your mouth around me, i need to fuck you properly and i need to do it now,” he cooed cupping your face. he traced his thumb across your lip and you took it into you mouth, sucking on it like a binkie. “fuck, you’re such a fucking slut y/n,” he ripped his hand from your mouth. “on the bed. now.”

you started to stand up but he stopped you, “no, crawl.” you did exactly as you were told and crawled your way to the foot of his bed.

you could predict he’d want you on all fours, but you didn’t want to assume, so you sat on the edge of his bed waiting for further instructions.

“you know how i want you.” he was making his way toward you.

you quickly turned around on your knees and lowered yourself so your face and arms were flat on the bed and your ass was in the air.

when jeonghan got within arms length of your body, without hesitation he slapped your right ass cheek before grabbing it tightly, his left hand doing the same to the other side. you just yelped and balled up the sheets in your fists.

spreading you so wide you thought you might split, he speaks again. “there’s so much more of you that i want to explore, y/n,” he mumbled lining himself up with your aching core once again.

“s-so explore me, jeonghan,” your voice was rather shaky as you waited for his cock to be shoved into you at any moment.

“fuck baby…” baby again? you didn’t have time to process the pet name once again before jeonghan picked up where you guys had left off.

his hands were holding onto your waist for dear life as he railed you into his bed with no mercy.

“f-f-fuck hann-nie!” you cried out, every stutter on beat with his hips. a string of the most lewd whimpers, whines and groans you’ve every let fly from your mouth followed.

“uh huh, that’s r-right. how g-good do i-fuck~ fuck you huh?” he boasted.

something about jeonghan’s feral tendencies to “claim” you had you tightening around him over and over, that familiar knot forming in your tummy.

“g-god hannie i’m c-close!” you warned, gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white.

he pulled his dick out of you instantly. you started pouting, “noooo hannie why did you-“

you heard a pop from his mouth and couldn’t help but turn your head around as far as you could. “hannie?”

“if you don’t like it, or it’s too much, what do you say?”

“‘stop’… what are you- fuck!”

jeonghan’s thumb was prodding at your other hole, barely being granted access due to it never being messed with. “too much?” he asked as the tip of his thumb slipped in.

the groan that escaped your mouth was all he needed but you tried to respond anyway, “n-no hannie~ fffuck…” your voice trailed off, the new sensation sending your body into a blissfully painful new level of pleasure.

jeonghan lined himself back up, slipping inside of you with ease at this point. the sensation of being able to feel his cock sliding in and out of you through your ass with his thumb was a feeling he didn’t know he needed. he threw his head back, slowly pulling himself out almost entirely before steadily pushing himself back into you, pushing down with his thumb to feel every inch through your gummy walls. “god dammit, y/n. you’re gonna be the death of me,” he snarled before once again picking back up to his animalistic pace from before.

you both were a moaning mess, in your own bubble of euphoria when suddenly, you were rudely interrupted by an annoyingly familiar voice.

“okay you fucking psychopaths, your point has been made. can you shut the fuck up now?!” josh yelled from down below. if you two were being honest, the moment jeonghan had you crawling across the floor to his bed, you’d forgotten all about josh and the others.

“no. you can come close the fucking door!” jeonghan yelled back trying to keep his voice steady when in reality, he could fall apart here and now. fall to his knees and cry at how amazing you were making him feel. you’re the reason he can fuck you so good. you make it impossible not to.

“god you guys are fucking obnoxious…” josh’s voice trailed off at the end of his sentence as he reached jeonghan’s door. he froze in his tracks. his drunken state didn’t really allow him to comprehend that he was going to be walking in on jeonghan absolutely wrecking you. he was just coming up to close the door, but he couldn’t stop staring.

he was snapped out of his daze when jeonghan whipped his head around, making immediate eye contact with him, not slowing down his thrusts in the slightest, completely unfazed.

“the fuck do you want?” he spat. you managed to turn your head to the side to catch a glimpse of the boy in the doorway. your vision blurry from being completely fucked out of your mind. you knew it felt wrong that he was seeing all of this, but your brain was so fuzzy you couldn’t really focus on anything else other than jeonghan.

“i- i was just closing the door,” josh managed to mutter out. as he reached for the doorknob, jeonghan spoke up again.

“no. you wanna watch so bad?” he slowly took his thumb out of you first, then his cock. you subconsciously whimpered at the sudden empty feeling. you knew you should move, knew you should adjust so you weren’t so exposed for josh to see but you couldn’t bring yourself to in your sex drunk (and still literally tipsy) state.

jeonghan, dick still out, made his way over to josh. “then come have a seat,” his tone was bitter as he grabbed him by the shoulder and walked him to his desk chair, nearly throwing him down.

“dude i don’t-“

“i dont want to hear it. you’re the one that stopped to watch so im giving you what you want, yeah?” suddenly jeonghan had dominance over everyone in the room. all josh could do was nod in response.

with the main reason for all of this absurdity now sitting in the room, jeonghan felt it was appropriate to shut the door. he did so forcefully, then made his was back over to you.

your head already being turned to your left where jeonghan’s desk was, you were looking right at josh. you quickly flipped your head the other way, embarrassed by your state. jeonghan took a fistful of your hair and slowly pulled you up so your back was flat against chest.

“i want him to watch me make you fall apart,” he whispered so gently in your ear for no one else to hear. “is that okay pretty girl?” the nickname making your tummy do flips all over again. of course that was okay. sure it would be embarrassing for the first 5 seconds, but josh pissed you off tonight more than anyone. so yes, yes of course he could be put in his place with a front row seat to the show.

“jeonghan yes,” you breathed desperately, clenching around nothing.

“good,” you wish you could see the smile on his face that you could hear when he spoke. “now, when you lay back down, turn your head back toward him so he can watch your face while i claim what’s mine.”

what’s his?

you did as you were told and when jeonghan loosened his grip on your hair, you lowered yourself back down with your face in the sheets facing joshua once again. he looked at you with a stare that was incomprehensible. was it lust? embarrassment? anger? probably all of the above, but you didn’t care. all you cared about was jeonghan filling you back up.

jeonghan started to make a snarky comment to joshua when you interrupted him.

“hannie p-please who fucking cares i need you to fuck me please please please!” you were on the brink of tears. so desperate for him, to feel his cock deep inside you again.

“oh someone’s needy hm? good girl asking so nicely.” his voice something carnal. he took barely two seconds to line himself up with your soaked, swollen, reddened and abused core.

you didn’t think he was holding back before but holy shit were you wrong. his hands were basically imbedded into your waist. his hips snapping with even more determination and vigor than before. it took no more than 20 seconds for him to get that knot forming in your tummy again.

“is this what you wanted, you fucking whore? such a whore for my cock aren’t you.” he growled. “tell me baby, has anyone ever fucked you this good?” he whined out, his own orgasm approaching.

you must’ve taken a millisecond too long to answer him because he harshly smacked your ass making you cry out in pain (in a good way of course). “answer me.”

“yes!” your voice coming out in a mix of whimpers and pure air. “no one c-can f-fuck… fuck me like you do hannie!”

“not even josh over here?”

your eyes had been shut since jeonghan started fucking you again… you forgot josh was in the room. when you opened them you were met with the sight of him shamelessly palming himself through his sweats. “especially not josh,” you managed to spit out rather clearly. it was a somewhat mean statement but the mother fucker was getting off to watching jeonghan literally prove that he can fuck you better than josh ever could’ve, so why not humiliate him a little more?

sure enough, josh groaned out in pleasure. sick.

“that’s fucking right.” jeonghan managed to pull out, flip you onto your back, and start fucking you again so fast you got dizzy. the new angle allowing him to hit a new spot, one that was bringing you closer to the edge, much faster than before.

“mmmmffff h-hannieee~” was all you could manage to get out, but he knew exactly what it meant.

“gonna make a mess all over my cock baby? hm? gonna show josh what a fucking idiot he is?” he whined once again. he moved his hand down and began rubbing circles on your clit, bringing you to your breaking point.

you turned into an illiterate wreck. somewhere laced in your desperate noises were traces of jeonghan’s name. you physically couldn’t bring yourself to unscrew your eyes to look at him. you knew he loved it when you made eye contact whenever you came undone for him, but you just couldn’t. you suddenly felt a soft hand gently grab your neck.

“i fucking love your face, y/n,” he whispered as his hips started to stutter. you managed to open your eyes to look at him right before he started to come undone himself, you still coming down from your own state of euphoria. when your eyes locked, he immediately crashed his lips into yours, his hand on your neck tightening as his hips thrusted into you one last time. you couldn’t help but clench around him when you felt his warm seed fill you up. his mouth fell open letting out a feral noise as you two lay forehead to forehead, jeonghan slowly moving himself in and out of you letting you milk his cock for all it’s worth. his hand that was around your neck moved up to cup your face instead, wiping your tears that you didn’t even realize had fallen from your eyes during all of… that.

“josh?” jeonghan’s voice was low, and he never broke eye contact with you. “get out.”

you heard josh shuffle out of the room shutting the door behind him. it was nice for it to just be the two of you again… not that you didn’t enjoy the game you two just played.

jeonghan’s eyes were piercing into yours with something different than you’d ever seen. it was a content look which you were used to but…

“i-“ he paused, scanning your eyes to see if he should even say such a foolish thing.

“you what, jeonghan?” you said delicately, running your fingers through your hair.

“i love you, y/n.” he whispered. he sunk his head down to the rook of your neck as if to hide. it was the most precious thing you’ve ever seen this boy do.

“jeonghan…” you shifted to grab his face and bring it back up to look at you. “i love you too.”

how were you two sharing the most soft, comforting moment with each other right after having sex that you felt would have the devil himself appalled?

“really?” his eyes lit up, a smile growing on his face. he showered every inch of your face in kisses as you giggled through every second of it. once he finally stopped you nodded silently with a soft smile plastered across your face.

most normal people in such a situation would be asking all sorts of questions, but you didn’t care to. you knew you guys would talk about it at the right time for both of you, that time just wasn’t now.

-

“BREAKFAST!!” mingyu yelled from the kitchen. you were barely managing to open your eyes as you heard footsteps running down the hall. for these men being well past their teenage years, you always found yourself thinking of them as boys. always so cheerful and full of energy, even first thing in the morning.

once you “came to” if you will, you realized you were being spooned by the boy that confessed his love for you last night… or early this morning. the moment he ripped you away from the table you’d lost track of all time.

you both were naked but you felt clean. you vaguely remember in your post-fucked-out state, that jeonghan had carried you to the bathroom with him to shower.

“hannie,” you spoke just above a whisper.

“hmmmmmm,” he groaned, pulling you closer to him.

“gyu just said breakfast is ready and.. i’m hungry.”

“i don’t blame you.” you could hear the smile on his face even tho your back was turned to him. his morning voice was husky, the sound of it immediately going to your core, but you were too hungry to do anything about it.

“shutup,” you giggled. “let’s get dressed.”

“ugggggh okay fine, fine.”

he let you slip out of his arms to sit on the edge of his bed before… attempting to get up. your legs were so physically weak, you couldn’t bring yourself to stand. in that moment you knew jeonghan was watching you because he bursted out laughing.

“oh i’m so sorry,” he sighed once he finished his laughing session.

“for laughing at the fact that i can’t stand? or for being the fucking reason that i can’t stand?” you jokingly scolded.

“both,” he shrugged with a smug smirk on his face before getting up and grabbing two pairs of briefs from his drawer, one for you and one for him. he put on a pair, then threw a baggy t-shirt on and called it good. “i hope you’re okay twinning with me,” he teased as he got on his knees to slide the underwear he grabbed for you onto your legs. once he got to your thighs you took over.

“i don’t mind in the slightest,” you gave him a cheeky smile. he shifted closer to you on his knees so he was between your legs, then gave you a tender kiss before he spoke again.

“good. now what shirt of mine do you want to wear, princess?”

you looked up at the ceiling, cartoonishly thinking even though you both knew what shirt you wanted to wear.

“maybe that really really baggy sweater with that ‘message of’ whatever on it?”

he gave you another kiss with a smile before moving to his closet. “message of ames it is, pretty girl.”

once he helped you put the sweatshirt on, you still sitting on the bed, he kneeled backwards in front of you so you could hop on his back.

“we were taking bets on if you two were gonna come down,” minghao deadpanned from the table, taking a bite of one of mingyu’s pancakes.

“the princess was hungry.” you lightly hit him upside the head before he carefully set you down right next to the chair he just pulled out for you. once you sat, he pushed you in.

minghao smiled at you. he spoke up once jeonghan walked into the kitchen to fetch your plates. “i’m glad he treats someone nicely.”

you two giggled together. “and i’m glad it’s me.”

“oh… something happened last night.” he paused with his forkful of hash browns in front of his face. “well, beside the obvious.”

your face grew hot. “ha, yeah you wouldn’t believe.”

“can’t wait to hear about it,” he whispered, then shoveling the hash browns into his mouth.

“hey,” jeonghan blurted setting your plate down in front of you. “you guys, where’s josh?” he asked casually as he sat with his own plate as if what happened last night just simply… didn’t happen. you could imagine he was hesitant to face you both.

but then…

“y/n! jeonghan!” josh yelled from his room. “what the fuck are these?!”

you and jeonghan slowly turned to look at each other, both wearing the words “oh fuck” on your faces without muttering a word. jeonghan shot out of his chair and ran up the stairs to save both of your asses.

you turned to your food, silently poking at a piece of your scrambled eggs. minghao leaned in close, so you turned to him. “what did he find?” he whispered.

as if on cue, mingyu ran over from the kitchen to lean his head in. you leaned close to the boys so you knew any lingering ears wouldn’t hear. “jeonghan threw my underwear in his room,” you whispered back.

minghao bursted out laughing, mingyu stood up dumbfounded. exaggerated shock displayed on his face. anyone else in the room who was trying to mind their own business was now staring.

“you guys are too fucking much,” minghao sighed while holding a smile on his face. mingyu silently kissed you on the top of your head before walking back into the kitchen.

“you have no idea,” you smiled back, taking a bite of your best friend’s homemade pancakes.

˚₊‧꒰ა 𓂋 ໒꒱‧₊˚

tag list: (i tagged everyone who reblogged the teaser) @jenoslutie @goblynnrockz @iluvhoshi @shinaely @squishysquishjimin @sana-is-ms-rmty @wonusfavgf @httpjeia @chanichanvhan @133456789000000000000 @4shypotato @meowwiie @lethia-killua @asyre @jeonghnie @starcandybby

[seongwars]

forget me not | iv

Pairing: Jeong Yunho x witch!Reader AU: non-idol | supernatural Summary: Yunho should be happy--he's got everything going for him and he's set to marry the love of his life! So why is he standing outside of your shop on the night of his engagement party? Word Count: 7.5K (my bad) Warnings: infidelity, use of the k word

Fic Masterlist

a/n: my stitches reopened and I had to go back and get restitched 😬 so I spent all day in bed editing this chapter. i love reading everyone's theories and feedback is always welcome!

The first time Haewon saw Yunho, it was at your dorm during a study session. You were both surrounded by books, notes, and various pieces of stationary scattered across the floor. While you were focusing on writing out your note cards, Haewon was dancing around the room in an attempt to “activate her brain cells”. 

She had been caught up in her own world until the sound of a knock interrupted her antics. You stood up to answer the door, and a low voice followed, mingled with a chuckle—deep, familiar, and warm.

Yunho.

He was your best friend, someone she’d heard about but hadn’t paid much attention to. But that day, something was different. He sat with a pile of books and a look of quiet concentration that intrigued her. His presence was magnetic, though subtle, and without realizing it, Haewon found herself sneaking glances at him, captivated by the calm determination in his demeanor.

She wasn’t sure when it happened exactly, but at some point, between stolen glances and shared laughter over late-night group study sessions, she started to fall for him. Yunho was kind, always the first to offer a helping hand, and his dedication to his friends and family was unwavering. He had a way of making everyone feel valued and heard.

And when he asked her to be his girlfriend, she was over the moon. 

"Did you know Yunho was going to ask me out?" she beamed, her voice laced with an excitement that made your heart sink.

You froze for a second, your pencil hovering above the page. There was a flicker of something—disappointment, maybe even hurt—but you quickly swallowed it down. 

"Maybe," you muttered, your voice light, almost teasing, though it took everything in you to keep it that way. Haewon didn’t see the way your grip tightened on the pencil, or how your smile didn’t quite reach your eyes.

"I can’t believe it," she gushed, oblivious to the turmoil behind your composed expression. "I mean, I’ve liked him for a while now, and I wasn’t sure if he felt the same way, but when he asked me…God, it was perfect."

"That’s great, Haewon" you said, your voice quieter than before, trying desperately to sound convincing. 

You fell in love with the way Yunho truly saw you, even when you tried to hide parts of yourself. He understood you in ways no one else ever had, knowing your fears, your dreams, and all the things that made you tick. Somewhere along the line, you stopped worrying about what he would think of you because with Yunho, you never had to pretend.

That’s when you knew you loved him—because the idea of life without him didn’t feel like life at all.

But how could you tell him? You weren’t like Haewon—bold and unafraid, able to voice her feelings as if vulnerability wasn’t terrifying. She was all confidence and ease, speaking her mind without a second thought, while you were cautious, overthinking, content to blend into the background.

Telling Yunho how you felt would mean stepping into the unknown. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing him if things went wrong. So you stayed silent, burying your feelings deep, hoping that somehow, you could protect what you had by keeping your secret. 

But things went wrong anyway.

You tried not to not let their relationship affect you, told yourself you were happy for them. Haewon and Yunho were two of the most important people in your life, and they deserved happiness. You repeated that to yourself like a mantra, hoping that if you said it enough, you might actually believe it. 

It hurt seeing them together, knowing that while you were happy for them, you couldn’t help the ache in your chest every time Yunho laughed a little too easily at something she said, or when she rested her head on his shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world.

The worst part was that you couldn’t even be angry. How could you? Haewon hadn’t done anything wrong; she hadn’t stolen Yunho from you, and Yunho hadn’t abandoned you. It was like watching sand slip through your fingers—nothing to hold on to, nothing you could do to stop it.

Yunho was happy, and you cared about him enough to want that for him, even if it wasn’t with you.

After you disappeared, everything fell apart in ways neither of them expected. Yunho and Haewon participated in search parties, posted on social media about your disappearance, and cooperated with law enforcement. But there were no answers, no trace of where you’d gone or why. The emptiness you left behind was palpable, a gaping hole in both their lives.

At first, Haewon believed they were grieving together. She felt the weight of your absence in every corner of her life, and Yunho, in his quiet way, did too. But then, she began to notice the way their relationship shifted. 

It was subtle at first: a slight distance in Yunho’s eyes, the way he seemed preoccupied even when they were alone. He would zone out in the middle of conversations, and even when he held Haewon in his arms, his heart wasn’t fully there. 

Slowly, painfully, she realized the truth. Yunho wasn’t just mourning you—he was waiting for you. He was still tethered to you, pulled by an invisible force that Haewon couldn’t compete with.

She never considered herself a mean girl. Sure, she had grown up in a comfortable world, surrounded by friends who were a little more tightly wounded and concerned with appearances. But now, standing on the other side of it, Haewon could see the truth for what it was. Yunho was never really hers to begin with. She hadn’t stolen him—not intentionally—but she had taken something that was never really hers to claim. 

Then there was Sungjae. 

Sungjae had never been a close friend, not really. He was more of a background figure—someone on the outskirts of Haewon’s social circle who, little by little, had weaseled his way in. He was everything Yunho wasn’t: impulsive, flirtatious, unpredictable. And it was those very qualities that ignited something in her.

The affair began quietly, like a secret Haewon wasn’t ready to admit even to herself. It started innocently enough—casual conversations, coffee outings after shared classes. They’d stay up late in the library, long after everyone else had left, talking about things that felt too personal, too vulnerable to share with anyone else. Haewon convinced herself it was nothing more than a close friendship—after all, she had a large circle of friends. What harm could one more friend do?

As time passed, the line between friendship and something more blurred. In the quiet moments following your disappearance, Haewon found herself relying on Sungjae in ways she hadn’t with Yunho in years. He became her anchor when the world felt uncertain, someone who made her feel alive and seen.

At first, it was easy to justify: she and Yunho had been drifting apart. Haewon had noticed it in the way their conversations had become shorter, less meaningful; the way they sat together in silence more often than not, the air between them filled with unspoken tension. 

But there was also something darker about Sungjae—something tied to the past Haewon desperately tried to forget. The night you disappeared, Sungjae had humiliated you, his cruel words cutting through the air as everyone watched in uncomfortable silence. And Haewon had stood by, doing nothing. She had stayed silent, too afraid to confront him, too indifferent to speak up.

Yunho had done nothing, either. His usual kind, gentle demeanor had turned into passive inaction, making excuses whenever Haewon brought up the topic like "It's just a phase" or "They’ll work it out."

“Do you think Sungjae had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” Haewon suddenly blurted out as the two were cooking dinner. 

Yunho froze, his jaw tightening. He knew the answer—he had always known. The last time anyone had seen you was when you stormed out of the apartment, cheeks flushed with shame and frustration. And yet, Yunho couldn’t admit it out loud. Admitting that Sungjae was responsible meant confronting his own failure, his own role in pushing you away.

“If he did,” Yunho said, his voice low, a dangerous edge creeping in, “I’ll kill him myself.”

“But you were the last one who saw her.”

His entire body tensed, the weight of Haewon’s accusation hitting him harder than he expected. He turned to face her fully, eyes dark and cold.

“You think I had something to do with Y/N’s disappearance?” His voice was low, hurt and anger threading through each word. He could feel the bile rising in his chest, burning with the injustice of her suspicion.

“That’s not what I said—”

“But it’s what you meant.” Yunho cut her off. “You think I’m the reason she’s gone?”

“I’m just trying to figure out what happened,” she murmured, her voice softer now, though the accusation still lingered between them. 

“All I did was walk her out, and the CCTV proved that! You have no idea how much Y/N’s disappearance is affecting me! But to even suggest that I could’ve done something…” His voice trailed off, swallowed by a surge of emotion.

“I can’t do this,” Yunho muttered, his voice barely audible now as he turned away from her. Grabbing his jacket off the chair, he headed for the door, his movements tense and deliberate. “I’m done with this conversation.”

His footsteps faltered just before reaching the door, the frustration inside him boiling over. He spun back to face Haewon, his voice sharp and biting.

“Every time it comes to Sungjae, you choose him. Why?”

“I–” Haewon’s voice cracked, but Yunho didn’t stop. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving a deafening silence in his wake.

Haewon knew it wasn’t fair to keep dragging him along when her heart was no longer fully his. But the thought of actually leaving—the finality of it—terrified her. The knowledge that once she walked away, there would be no going back was something she wasn’t sure she could handle.

And then Yunho proposed. 

It caught her completely off guard—a moment she hadn’t prepared for despite all her doubts and uncertainty. She hadn’t expected him to propose, not now. But instead of facing the truth, instead of admitting that her heart had drifted away and she was entangled in an affair with someone else, Haewon did the only thing she could think of: she convinced herself that accepting Yunho’s proposal would fix everything.

Haewon felt trapped. She felt the walls closing in, suffocating her as she tried to play the part of the happy fiancée. On the night of the engagement party, everyone around them was celebrating, toasting to their future, but all she could think about was how wrong it all felt. Her heart wasn’t in it—not fully—and she knew it.

The alcohol didn’t help. Glass after glass, Haewon drank to drown out the noise in her head, to silence the guilt and doubt. She wanted to forget, to numb herself to everything, but instead, it only made her feel more exposed.

She avoided Yunho most of the night, choosing instead to party with her friends, laughing too loudly, her smile brittle around the edges. Yunho tried to get her to slow down, to pull her back to him, to hold her close, but every time he did, it felt like the air was being sucked out of her lungs. It wasn’t his fault, but being near him only made the weight of her choices heavier.

Finally, something inside her snapped. Right there, in front of everyone. The frustration, the guilt, the suffocating pressure of pretending—it all came to the surface. She knew it was unfair, that Yunho didn’t deserve it, but she couldn’t stop the words from spilling out. 

Now, as she laid in bed next to Sungjae, the weight of her betrayal closed in on her. The wedding was fast approaching, a date circled on the calendar like a death sentence, and there was no backing out now. The dress had been chosen, the invitations sent. Everyone was expecting a celebration, but all Haewon could feel was dread. 

Yunho had betrayed you too, hadn’t he? He had stood on the sidelines, just as complicit, watching as Sungjae’s cruelty unraveled you. And yet, he had stayed—stayed with her, proposed to her, tried to build a future with her. It was laughable. 

The two of them, pretending like they could escape what they’d done, like they could forge something real out of ashes. But the truth had always been there, lurking beneath the surface. 

They were no better than the man lying next to her now.

Perhaps this was what she and Yunho both deserved—two people who had betrayed you, condemned to a life of misery together.

Life in the Emporium was nothing short of magical surprises.

Each day began with a quiet ritual, a moment of calm before the shop's unique energy fully awoke. The first thing you’d do each morning was reach for the incense—carefully selected for its cleansing properties—and light it. As the fragrant smoke curled into the air, it seemed to reset the entire space, gently sweeping away the lingering energies left behind by the previous day’s visitors.

Above, the flowers in the hanging garden stirred with the first touch of morning light, their vibrant petals responding as if in greeting. You watered them with a flick of the wrist, though it felt more like a gesture of care than necessity—they thrived on the shop's magic more than on water.

The shop had its own rhythm, a delicate balance between the mundane and the mystical. Travelers, clients, and even the occasional spirit wandered in, drawn by the promise of wishes granted—some simple, others far more complicated. You had seen all kinds: the weary traveler who just wanted safe passage home, the desperate lover seeking a second chance, or the ambitious merchant hoping to change their fortune.

But nothing in the emporium was granted without a cost, and the price wasn’t paid in gold or silver. Every transaction required something far more precious—a wish. Not the kind made on a whim, but a deeply held desire, pulled from the very core of one’s soul.

You would watch as they approached the counter, hands trembling ever so slightly as they revealed their request. Their eyes flickered with doubt as the weight of the exchange settled upon them. Standing before you, they were caught between what they needed and what they were about to give up, realizing that their wish, once surrendered, would be gone forever.

You always asked if they were certain. If they understood the nature of their sacrifice. But the emporium never rejected a payment once it was offered. 

You had become accustomed to the shop’s quirks, trusting its ancient magic to maintain a balance that you could only partly comprehend. It was more than a shop; it was a living entity, guiding not only the customers but you, its keeper, shaping the course of both your lives in subtle, unseen ways.

Everything functioned smoothly, like clockwork—until the day Yunho arrived.

From the moment Yunho stepped into the emporium, his presence unsettled you. There was a calm assurance in the way he carried himself, grounding everything around you. Despite never having met him before, something inside you insisted Yunho wasn’t a stranger. 

You recalled the strange memories that had flooded your senses—the wind whipping around you as you sat in a car with Yunho, the sun illuminating the way the corner of his eyes crinkled when he smiled. It felt so real, as if you’d lived that moment before, but then it dissolved into something deeper, something raw. 

The emotions had gripped you before you could react, dragging you under like a riptide. Your knees buckled, and the world tilted, leaving you gasping for air. Yunho was there, of course. Even through the thick haze of your feelings, he kept you steady, his arms the only thing keeping you from crumbling completely.

Even now, the echoes of that moment lingered in your body. You could still feel the weight of the emotions that had passed through you, as if the magic had left an imprint on your soul. 

“Fate has already tied their threads together.”

Your mind raced, trying to grasp Hongjoong and Wooyoung’s conversation. 

What did that mean? What threads? Could the connection you felt—this strange, undeniable pull—be part of some cosmic plan, one that had existed long before you even stepped foot in the emporium?

But how could you accept something so profound when you couldn’t even remember him? The thought haunted you, and yet, deep down, the pull toward Yunho only grew stronger, as if Fate itself refused to let you walk away.

You sighed, taking a long drag from your pipe, leaning back as you watched a few late summer blooms drift down from the skylight’s hanging garden. Their petals fluttered like tiny omens in the gentle breeze. Fall had arrived, and with the change in seasons, the line between the living and the departed would thin, bringing even more travelers and clients from different realms. 

The bell above the door jingled faintly, drawing your attention. You glanced over, catching the sleek, shadowy form slipping through the crack in the door—a flash of fur before it darted out into the evening. You immediately knew who it was.

“Wooyoung,” you called out. The cat froze mid-step, his tail twitching with surprise. Slowly, he turned his head, his onyx eyes gleaming mischievously in the dim light.

“Don’t even try it,” you added, placing your hands on your hips. He blinked at you, feigning innocence, but you weren’t about to let him slink away without answers this time.

The cat stretched lazily, as if he hadn’t just been caught trying to sneak out, then padded toward you with that familiar, too-casual saunter. By the time he reached you, he shifted back into his human form with a dramatic sigh, ruffling his messy hair as if you’d truly inconvenienced him.

“I was just stepping out,” Wooyoung said, giving you that infuriating smirk of his. “Needed some air. It’s stuffy in here with all this—" He waved his hand around vaguely, “—magic.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it. “You are magic, Wooyoung.” Your tone was teasing, playful. “Haven’t you had enough of the outside world and tormenting humans for one lifetime?”

“I’m a cat. Gotta see what the world’s up to,” he shrugged. 

There was a beat of silence, and you took a breath before speaking. “I heard your conversation with Hongjoong last night.”

Wooyoung froze for the briefest moment, his eyes widening just slightly before he masked it with another lazy grin. The shift in his demeanor was quick, but you’d known him long enough to recognize the flicker of panic he tried to bury. 

"It’s not polite to eavesdrop," he teased, his voice light but edged with a subtle wariness.

You weren’t about to let him wiggle his way out of this one. You had seen the way he was squirming, avoiding the real issue, and this time you needed answers. 

"What does fate have to do with me and Yunho?"

His smile faltered, a crack in his usual carefree facade. Wooyoung shifted uneasily, searching for the right words to soften the blow, but knowing there was no easy way out. He could feel your frustration mounting, the tension stretching unbearably thin.

"It’s... well, it’s like this," His voice lowered, and for once, he sounded serious. "Hongjoong thinks you and Yunho are bound together in ways that we don’t fully understand. It’s something that’s deeper and older…something that humans refer to as soulmates."

Soulmates.

It sounded ridiculous, unbelievable. You and Yunho, tied together by fate? He was just a traveler, someone the shop had revealed itself to. There was nothing special about him. 

"How?" you scoffed, shaking your head as if the mere action would dispel the ridiculous notion. "He’s a stranger, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. He shifted uncomfortably, looking anywhere but at you. 

"Well… the thing is you have met him before.” But the thing is... you don’t remember. Because you can’t, Wooyoung wanted to say. 

"What are you talking about? Then why can’t I remember him? What did I forget?"

Your chest tightened. The frustration, the confusion, the pull you’d felt around Yunho ever since he first entered the shop—it all started to transform into something deeper, something more unsettling. It was as if a fog was lifting, revealing shadows of memories you couldn’t quite grasp.

He let out a long breath, rubbing his face. "It’s complicated. There are things...about you, that you don’t remember. That you chose not to remember."

Your mind raced. Memories? With Yunho? The man you barely knew, who had walked into your life like any other traveler? It didn’t make sense. None of this did.

"If I erased him from my life, then maybe I had a reason," you snapped, the words tasting bitter. Wooyoung winced but didn’t argue. 

"Fate doesn’t just disappear because you forget. He’s still tied to you, even if you can’t feel it." He paused, his eyes searching your face, hoping for some sign of understanding. "Maybe it’s why the shop revealed itself to him. It’s fate, pulling you back together."

You could feel the ground slipping from beneath you, your grip on reality loosening with every word he spoke. What Wooyoung was suggesting—soulmates, forgotten love, fate—it sounded like something out of a dream, a fantasy too far removed from the life you knew. 

"Why does it matter if I’m connected to him or not?" you continued, your throat tightening as the question lodged itself there, too painful to speak.

The air grew heavy, thick with tension, as if the walls themselves were reacting to the storm brewing inside you. The shelves rattled, and the shop’s energy pulsed erratically, reflecting the confusion and fear you could no longer keep at bay. The lanterns flickered wildly, casting frantic shadows that danced along the walls, twisting in the growing unease.

You tried to steady your breathing, to calm the chaos within, but your mind raced with unanswered questions, with the gnawing suspicion that Wooyoung was right, and it terrified you. 

Wooyoung’s face fell, the spark of his usual wit dimming into something darker, something almost sorrowful. He shifted uncomfortably again, as though he wished to be anywhere but here, at this moment.

"Because no one wants to see you hurting, Y/N,” His voice was barely above a whisper, thick with regret. "You were in so much pain that you thought forgetting him and becoming the keeper would make it stop."

That name again. Y/N. It echoed in your mind, a foreign weight on your chest. It felt like a name you should know, but it slipped through your grasp. A name tied to a life you no longer remembered. 

"That toy," he continued, "it triggered something, didn’t it? The memories—the emotions—they were too strong. And when you felt that, your magic went unstable. The shop could barely handle it."

You shuddered, the memory of that moment still fresh, still raw. But one question clawed at you, louder than the chaos you’d unleashed.

What had been so unbearable that the only answer was to forget?

“Why is it so cold?” you groaned, bouncing on your toes and rubbing your hands together, trying to get the blood flowing. 

The train station was always drafty, but today it felt like the cold had settled into your bones, refusing to leave. You shivered and glanced around, surprised to see no snow on the ground. It was odd—this time of year usually meant blankets of white everywhere, the world covered in a quiet stillness. Yet now, all you had was the biting wind and a gray sky threatening snow that never seemed to come.

Yunho stood beside you, his breath puffing out in small clouds as he huddled deeper into his coat. He laughed softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked at you. 

“You’re always cold,” he teased, nudging your arm with his elbow. “Should’ve worn more layers.”

“Easy for you to say. You’re practically a furnace,” you grumbled. 

The two of you had decided to take the train home for the holidays after your first semester of university. You were both exhausted—finals had drained whatever energy you had left—but there was excitement in the air as Christmas approached. 

“I’m surprised there’s no snow,” you mused, gazing up at the dull, overcast sky. The clouds hung low, thick and heavy, but still no sign of snowflakes falling. “Feels weird, doesn’t it? Christmas without snow.”

Yunho hummed in agreement beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat as he followed your gaze. “Yeah, it’s like something’s missing. Hopefully, it’ll snow while we’re home.”

His voice was hopeful, and you could see the small spark of excitement in his eyes. Yunho loved snow—it wasn’t just the beauty of it, but the way it brought a sense of stillness and magic to the world. The kind of magic that reminded you both of simpler times, of building snowmen as kids and staying out too long until your fingers were numb.

The next morning, Yunho’s wish came true.

Snow. Fresh, untouched snow covered everything. The rooftops, the streets, the trees—it all glistened under the early morning light, as if the entire world had been dipped in magic overnight. 

This was the moment he’d been waiting for, the moment he hoped for when you both had been standing at the train station, wondering if Christmas would even feel like Christmas without snow. Now, it was here. His wish had come true.

But more than that, he wanted to share this moment with you.

You blinked up at the sky, a few lazy snowflakes still drifting down, landing on your lashes and melting against your skin. Yunho stood beside you, watching the way your eyes lit up, the way you took in the moment like it was something precious. 

The two of you stood there for a while, wordlessly watching the snowfall together. It was the kind of stillness that felt sacred, the kind that only came with the first snow of the season. 

As Yunho glanced at you, his breath caught. You weren’t doing anything special—just standing there, bundled up in your oversized hoodie, your hair slightly messy from sleep, your cheeks flushed from the cold. You weren’t trying to impress anyone, least of all him. You were just you, in the most effortless way, and somehow, that had always been enough.

There was a simplicity to the moment that felt different, more profound than he expected. Last summer, when you’d spent long, sunny days together, he’d thought he understood what he felt for you. He cared about you more than anyone, maybe more than he should’ve let on. It was a love that had grown quietly, steadily, and was beginning to envelop him. 

It was too easy to love you. Too effortless, too natural, as if his heart had always been meant for you. And that’s what made it so dangerous.

He knew that sometimes, love—no matter how powerful—wasn’t enough. The thought of risking what you had—this simple, effortless connection that meant everything to him—for something as unpredictable as love felt like falling into the ocean.

And Yunho wasn’t ready to make the jump. 

He groaned, pressing the heels of his hands against his temples as if that could somehow ease the pounding in his skull. His head felt like it was being split open, a dull, relentless ache that refused to let up. The events of the previous night were a blur—fragments of conversation, too many drinks, and the sinking realization that he’d gone well past his limit.

He’s supposed to head back to Seoul today, back to his life and the steady rhythm of work that usually kept his life in order. But there was no way he could face that right now, not with the amount of alcohol that had been consumed. 

The events of last night came back to him in disjointed, hazy flashes. He remembered the way your fingers brushed against the plush toy, followed by the sudden paling of your face right before you collapsed to the floor. 

Yunho’s heart had nearly stopped at that moment, the world around him crashing into stillness. The usual hum of the emporium faded into nothing, the vibrant colors of the shelves and strange objects blurring into meaningless shapes. 

His legs moved before his mind could catch up, and he was running, sprinting toward you as if the very air had been torn from his lungs. The world shrank, narrowing to the sight of you lifeless in his arms.

"Y/N, stay with me," he whispered, panic thick in his voice as he cradled your unconscious body. It was the same terror he’d felt the day you disappeared, the same helpless, gut-wrenching fear that had kept him awake at night, haunted by the thought that he’d never see you again.

Yunho held you like his entire world depended on it, his arms wrapped tightly around you, desperate and unrelenting. He pressed his forehead against yours, as he cradled your head against his chest, the warmth of your skin barely noticeable as panic surged inside him.

“I’m sorry, just please, please don’t leave me,” he begged, his voice barely holding together. His fingers tightened their grip on you, trembling with the fear that if he let go, even for a second, you’d slip away for good.

He couldn’t lose you, not when he had just found you again.

Then came Wooyoung’s revelation. You had chosen to disappear from his life. It wasn’t an accident, or some cruel twist of fate. You had asked the shop to erase your memories—all of them. He could still hear Wooyoung’s voice, bitter and sharp, recounting the details, but the exact reason why Wooyoung had been so angry at him was lost in the fog of the night.

He remembered the sting—the way the door slammed behind him, the coldness of the night hitting his face as he stood there, dazed, confused and frustrated. You were alive, bound to this strange realm by forces he didn’t fully understand. But worse than that, you had willingly cut him out of your life.

After that, things blurred even more. He’d ended up at a bar, the numbness setting in as he ordered drink after drink, trying to drown the sea of emotions that threatened to consume him. Somewhere along the way, Yeosang had joined him, and Yunho found himself pouring his heart out—his frustrations, his guilt, his failures. He had ranted about the weight of trying to be the good guy while everything around him crumbled.

Now, in the harsh light of day, the weight of it all hit him with a different kind of intensity. His heart felt heavy, and he had no idea where to go from here.

Yunho sat up, staring at his phone as if it might give him the answers he was too afraid to ask for. His thumb hovered over Haewon’s name on the screen, trembling slightly. He wasn’t sure what he was going to say—he didn’t have a plan, only a sinking feeling in his chest that told him he couldn’t keep pretending everything was fine. 

The line rang once, then twice. By the third ring, his heart had started racing, the weight of everything he had to confront pressing down on him like a vice. When it went to voicemail, Yunho’s stomach dropped.

“Hey, it’s Haewon! Sorry I missed your call, but leave a message and I’ll get back to you soon!”

The artificial cheer in her voice made his skin crawl, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He could almost picture her—smiling, carefree, the version of her that had loved him wholeheartedly. But that wasn’t who she was anymore. That wasn’t who they were.

"Hey..." he finally whispered, “give me a call when you get a chance.” Yunho waited for a beat, as if hoping she might pick up at the last second, but the line remained silent, empty.

“Yunho? Aren’t you getting ready to head back?” His mom’s voice was gentle, but it startled him from his thoughts. She appeared in the doorway, concern etched in the lines of her face. 

He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I don’t know if I’m going back,” he admitted softly, his voice thick with uncertainty. 

His mom walked in, taking a seat on the edge of his bed, her presence warm and calming. She had always been able to read him better than anyone, even when he was trying his best to hide. Mrs. Jeong didn’t say anything for a moment, just letting the silence hang between them, giving him the space to breathe.

“Tell me more.”

Yunho sighed, running a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of everything he’d been holding in. It was strange—he felt like a teenager again, venting to his mom about his problems, but this time it felt more suffocating. The future he had thought he wanted, the life he had worked so hard to build, no longer felt like his.

“I’m hungover. I’m miserable. I don’t want to marry Haewon. I’m not happy with my job or where I am in my life. Mingi is my only friend, Yeosang kind of hates me, and Y/N…” He let out a watery chuckle, the sound laced with bitterness. “She’s gone.”

There it was, the truth laid bare—the reality that had been gnawing at him for months, too terrifying to confront. The words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything he had been trying to ignore.

Mrs. Jeong’s gaze softened as she listened, her heart heavy with a mother’s instinct to protect, but knowing she couldn’t fix this for him. She reached out, placing a hand over his. 

“You’ve been carrying this for a while, haven’t you?” Her voice was soft, laced with a sadness that only came from witnessing the quiet battles of someone you love.

Yunho looked down to their joined hands, his throat tightening. The words he had held back for so long hovered on the edge of his lips, threatening to escape. 

“I thought I could handle it. But—" He paused, his fingers gripping hers a little tighter, his chest heaving as he fought to keep the floodgates closed. 

"I don’t want to keep pretending I’m okay,” he continued, voice cracking slightly. “I’m tired, Mom. Of the job, the engagement, everything. It’s like I’m suffocating, and I don’t know how to breathe anymore.” he replied, quieter now, almost like he was talking to himself. It was the first time he’d admitted it out loud. The fear that had been chaining him to a future he didn’t want.

His mother exhaled softly, her brow furrowing as she absorbed his words. After a moment, she squeezed his hand and spoke gently, her voice calm but firm.

“You’ve always been so considerate. Always thinking of others. But have you thought about what you want? Truly want, not just what you think you should want?”

It wasn’t something Yunho had ever allowed himself to consider fully, and even now, the thought seemed almost too outlandish, too selfish. But the way his mother looked at him, with such understanding, made it feel less frightening, less impossible to confront.

“You’re allowed to want something different, Yunho. You’re allowed to change your mind. You’re allowed to choose yourself.”

Her words struck something within him, unraveling the tightly wound rope of expectations he had tangled himself in for so long. He hesitated, his heart pounding as he dared to voice the question that had haunted him for months.

“So you wouldn’t be upset if I called off the wedding?” His voice was small, almost as if he were afraid the very mention of it might cause everything to collapse around him.

His mother shook her head, her expression soft and reassuring. “Of course not, Yunho. Haewon is lovely, but…” She paused, choosing her words carefully, as she looked at him. “I always felt like she wasn’t the one for you.”

Yunho blinked, surprised by the admission. His mother had never said anything like that before, and in all their talks about the wedding, she had always been supportive, never giving any sign that she might have doubts of her own. 

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?” he asked, almost incredulous. 

“Because you’re finally listening to yourself. This is your life, not mine, not anyone else’s. It wasn’t my place to tell you how to live, Yunho. I wanted to believe that you knew what was best for you.”

“And if I quit my job?” he asked, testing the waters, anxiety sparking in his voice. 

“Gunho would be thrilled,” she laughed. “You know, he was absolutely livid when you took the finance job over the Tigers. I’ve never seen him so upset with you! He ranted for weeks about how you were wasting your talents behind a desk instead of being out there building the ultimate dream team.”

His mother’s laughter faded, replaced by a more serious expression. “We’ve all had our hopes for you, Yunho. But those were our hopes, not yours. Life’s not a straight line. It’s full of twists and turns. You don’t have to stay on a path that doesn’t feel right anymore.”

There was something comforting about the idea, the notion of stepping away from the path he had chosen, back to something that felt more like home—more like himself. Sitting with his mother, he began to wonder: What if it wasn’t reckless? What if choosing the life he truly wanted wasn’t some wild, selfish fantasy? What if it was okay to dream again?

His mind wandered to you, to the quiet snowfall and how the snowflakes caught on your lashes. He thought of that summer, driving to the beach, the wind in your hair and the sun beaming down on you, like the world itself couldn’t touch you as long as you were together.

He thought of meeting you for the first time at six years old, running across the street and greeting you as if he’d known him your entire life. It was as if he’d found his other half that day, the person who made him feel complete even in his innocence.

But then, more painfully, he thought of meeting you for the first time again. Only this time, you hadn’t known him at all. 

With you, there was no need to fill the silence. Everything felt easy, natural, like you were meant to exist beside each other. You were his best friend, the one person who made him feel like himself. And suddenly, Yunho knew. 

It was you. 

The version of himself that existed when he was with you—that was who he truly was. It was a terrifying realization, but at the same time, it was the most certain thing he’d felt in a long time. You had always been the one constant in his life, the one person who made everything feel okay, even when it wasn’t.

And he didn’t want to lose that. He didn’t want to lose you.

He wanted a future with you.

Yunho swallowed, his pulse quickening, but for the first time in what felt like forever, his mind was clear. 

“I think…” he began, his voice steady, resolute, “I know where I want to go from here.”

Pushing open the door, the familiar chime rang through the shop. It was empty, save for you, and Yunho’s breath caught when he saw you standing behind the counter, bathed in the glow of fading daylight. 

He glanced over at you, watching the way you moved, how you seemed so different and yet so familiar. The person standing in front of him was still you, the same person he’d known since childhood. The memories from childhood rushed back again—the snow, the summer sun, the first time you played baseball together. It all made sense now, in ways it never had before.

“Yunho,” you greeted, your voice carrying a warmth as you lifted your hand with a graceful flick. The scroll hovering beside you shimmered for a moment, then dissolved into the air, disappearing as if it had never existed. 

“How are you feeling?” Yunho asked quietly. There was something boyish, almost shy, in the way he looked at you, like he was a kid again, standing in front of his crush, hoping for something, anything, that would tell him he was making the right choice.

“Better. Thank you for being here the other night. It seems like you were a big help to Wooyoung.”

"I'm glad to hear that," he murmured, his voice soft as his gaze lingered on you, his eyes softening as if he were seeing you for the first time all over again. There was a quiet admiration that he couldn’t quite hide, no matter how hard he tried to keep his emotions in check.

"I uh…" he hesitated, his eyes flickered away for a moment, as if searching for courage in the silence between you, “I’m leaving for Seoul. Just to take care of some things. I wanted to see you before I left.”

You tilted your head, curiosity lighting up your eyes, the corners of your lips lifting in that familiar way that made his heart stutter. A playful yet gentle hum escaped your lips. 

“Oh? And why’s that?”

Your question hung in the air, teasing him, pulling at the tangled mess of feelings he'd tried to bury for so long. He looked at you, a faint flush creeping up his neck as he struggled to find the right response. 

“I—” he started, but his voice faltered. His pulse quickened, and for a moment, he felt completely exposed. “I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

The air around you seemed to still, the gravity of his admission settling like dust in the corners of the emporium. The idea of leaving felt wrong to him, and yet it was inevitable, something he had to do. 

Your eyes softened with understanding, feeling more like home than any place he could go. Something in your gaze recognized him, sensing the invisible thread that tied you together. 

“No matter where you are,” you said quietly, your voice carrying the same calm assurance that had always soothed him, “the emporium will always be within reach. As will I.”

The words were simple, yet they held a promise—a promise that went beyond physical space or memory. The emporium was never bound by the ordinary rules of the world, and neither, it seemed, were you. Your small, understanding smile made Yunho feel that, despite the uncertainty, everything would be okay.

“Besides,” you continued, a playful glint flickering in your eyes, “I can always ask Wooyoung to lend a helping hand. He knows the way.”

“That cat does nothing but bully me,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, recalling how Wooyoung had made him a target of mischief.

Your laugh filled the space between you, a sound that seemed to chase away the heaviness for just a moment. Though Yunho tried to maintain his frown, the corners of his lips betrayed him, lifting into a reluctant smile. 

Even though you didn’t remember him, it didn’t matter. There was something deeper between you, something unshakeable. And that, in its own way, gave him the strength he needed to leave.

You stepped forward, that invisible thread that had always seemed to exist between you tugged at your heart, drawing you toward him. It was a connection that transcended words, possibly even space and time. Yunho’s eyes lingered on you, their quiet intensity making your heart skip a beat.

“The next time I come into the shop,” he began, his voice low, “I’ll be ready to make my wish.”

You searched his face, trying to read the depths of what he meant, but all you found was that same gentle fervor staring back at you. 

“You’ve thought about it?”

“I have,” he admitted. “With everything that’s happening, I think I finally know what I want.”

The weight of his words settled between you like a promise. Whatever his wish was, it wasn’t something to be rushed—it belonged to the future, a time when he was ready to claim it. And somehow, you understood that.

“I’ll be waiting,” you whispered, though you knew Yunho heard it.

As he turned to leave, a sudden thought gripped you, pulling you back from the brink of your goodbye. “Yunho… before you leave…”

He froze at the sound of his name on your lips, his heart fluttering. Every breath, every glance, vibrated with something unspoken, something powerful.

“Who are you?” you asked, your voice soft, tentative. “To me?”

<< iii | v >>

taglist: @babymbbatinygirl @intowxnderland @hwasa28 @thedistractedwriter @beabatiny @lovelyglares @spenceatiny18 @tiny-apocalypse @sunnysidesins @heyitsmetonid @jwone @laurenwidjaja @potatos-on-clouds @xuchiya @syubseokie

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Grew in my Heart

It's finally done you guys!!!! This is my take on a foster Pony au, loosely based on this idea from @freak-l0rd-certifed. It's currently unedited but I'll post it here anyways, and then cross post an edited version on my ao3. @pepsicurtis asked to be tagged when it was done based on a snippet I posted earlier, so here you go. This is part 1, part 2 is fully written and will be up tomorrow.

***************

The lady on the other side of the room is watching him.

That’s okay though. Ponyboy is used to people watching him. Social workers, foster parents, group home staff, police. Everyone watches him all the time but nobody cares, cares for him or about him, so Ponyboy doesn’t mind this lady joining in. He knows he looks weird, with his sticky out ears and the patchy haircut Mr. Fuller gave him and the bruise around his eye. So he understands why this lady is watching him, and doesn't begrudge her for it.  Besides, she looks like a nice lady. Nice ladies don’t usually watch him. If they do they don’t usually look at him with the kindness glowing in the woman’s shining green eyes.

The lady smiles at him and he ducks back into his book, ears burning. She wasn’t supposed to catch him looking.

When he peeks over the top of his copy of Great Expectation a minute later, she’s still watching him, smiling in a way Ponyboy would call amusement if he didn’t know better. He quickly hides again, cursing himself for drawing notice. It’s never a good thing. Never. Better he stay quiet, stay invisible. Invisible kids didn’t get hurt.

He hopes Ms. Summers will come back soon and take him to wherever he’ll be staying next, if only so that he can leave the waiting room, escape from where this nice lady and her nice family are no doubt waiting for them to bring a brand new baby to adopt. Probably one only a few days old, something sweet and cute and new they could love and pamper. Nice people only ever came to the child services offices to pick up babies. Anyone who came to pick up kids was usually about as nice as the people who dropped them off. 

He goes back to his book. Usually it’s easy to escape into the story where he can pretend to be a knight or a hero or anything but stupid, small, unwanted Ponyboy Hewitt, but he can’t seem to concentrate today. It’s not just because of the nice looking lady with the green eyes who keeps watching him, keeping an eye on him the same way she’s been keeping an eye on the three boys who came in with her. His head is also aching something fierce. That last knock from Mr. Fuller was kind of hard. 

Hard enough Ms.Summers thought he should move again anyway.

“Quit fidgeting, Soda,” an authoritative voice from the other side of the room says, and Ponyboy can’t help but glance over. He tells himself it’s because the speaker was kind of loud, but he knows deep down that’s not the case. It’s not because the boy is loud, it’s because he’s cool. He’s a lot bigger than Pony is, and older too, with wavy brown hair and broad shoulders. He could probably look Mr.Fuller square in the face and never be scared, not ever. “We have to show we’re the perfect family or they won’t let us keep Johnny.”

“Really?” The boy who answers has golden blond hair and rosy cheeks with a dimple high in one corner. Pony never really understood what books meant when they talked about eyes twinkling until the boy had pranced into the office a few minutes before, looking like a prince straight from a fairytale. His eyes aren’t twinkling now though: instead, they’re shining with worry. His shadow, a smaller boy with jet black hair and tan skin, looks the same, eyes wide and terrified in his peaked face. “They can’t do that just ‘cause I’m sittin’ wrong, can they mom?”

He turns anxiously to the nice lady who smiles and smooths down his hair.

“Of course not honey,” she soothes, “we don’t gotta prove we’re perfect to keep Johnny, we just gotta prove we love him. And we do.”

She turns her smile on the dark haired boy who flushes and ducks his head shyly, looking unfathomably pleased. Ponyboy swallows hard and looks away, his own ears reddening. It’s not fair for him to hate the dark haired boy, he knows it isn’t, but it doesn’t matter. In that moment, he kind of hates him anyway. 

The woman’s gentle smile has confirmed what he suspected all along. She’s a nice mom, the kind he’s only ever read about in storybooks. She probably kisses those boys goodnight- even the big one, even if he pretended it wasn’t cool- and probably smells like cinnamon and bakes birthday cakes sometimes, puts bandages on cuts, and never slaps them, not ever. 

He wants Ms. Summers to come back. He wants to leave. He doesn’t want to sit here and watch a boy his own age get adopted by the kind of family he wishes he could have more than anything in the world. 

The blonde boy sticks his tongue out at the cool one and makes a fart noise.

“See Darry? They ain’t gonna take Johnny! You’re stupid and wrong!”

“Sodapop Patrick Curtis!” A man Ponyboy assumed must be the nice lady’s husband and the boys’ father boomed, “What have I told you about using that kind of language towards your brother?”

“That it's not how we speak to our family,” the blonde boy, Sodapop, says like he was reading off a teleprompter. Clearly, this was not the first time he’d heard that particular reprimand, “but dad, I was only defending my other brother.”

“Be that as it may,” Mr.Curtis said, “I don’t want to hear that language from you any more.” He sounded stern, but his eyes were still glinting proudly and there was a smile hiding somewhere near the corner of his mouth. Not a scary dad then. A good one.

“Yeah Soda,” the older boy, Darry, grinned, seeming unperturbed by the insult. He was real handsome, Pony thought. If he was Sodapop he’d never call that Darry boy stupid, not ever. “Save that language for socs. Or Two-bit when he’s playin’ poker against Dally.”

Sodapop laughed then, any traces of animosity disappearing, Johnny grinning quietly beside him. 

Ponyboy decides he’s done watching them be happy, and goes to the washroom.

He does his business, standing on tiptoe to reach the sink when he’s done because it’s meant for adults not for kids and there's no footstool. He can’t reach the soap, even when he jumps, so he just settles for rinsing extra long. The paper towel dispenser is also too high to reach so he dries his hands on his pants and goes back to the waiting room. 

“Oh honey, wait,” he doesn’t realize the nice lady is speaking to him until she’s kneeling in front of him, tugging his shirt from where he hadn’t noticed it had gotten twisted and tucked into his pants, pulling it out and smoothing it down nicely, “there you go. All handsome again.”

She smiles, looking like sunshine incarnate, and Ponyboy kind of wants to die.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, sure he must be redder than a tomato, then flees back to his chair on the other side of the waiting room. They’re all watching him now, the nice lady and her nice husband, and the three boys who are now all sitting in a circle on the floor, playing a game of cards. 

He opens Great Expectations to a random page and stares at it hard, trying very hard not to cry. He’s almost seven years old, he’s not a baby anymore. He will not cry just because one lady was nice to him and now her perfect family is staring at him. He won't. 

“Hi!” Suddenly, blonde, beautiful Sodapop is in front of him, grinning like Ponyboy is the best thing he’s ever seen ever, “I’m Soda. Wanna play cards with us?”

He wants to, more than anything, but he knows if he does it’ll just feel worse when they leave and he doesn’t go with them , or when Ms. Summers comes to drag him away to whoever will bother keeping him for the next few weeks, so he can’t.

He shakes his head, unable to actually say no, and Soda deflates, eager grin melting into an unhappy pout, shoulders curling forward, and the twinkle in his eye dimming. He looks like Pony just ruined his whole day with one shake of his head. 

“Ok,” he sighs, dramatic and world weary, and it would seem like an act if his eyes weren’t entirely genuine, “if you change your mind, you can c’mon over anytime. It would be so much more fun with another person.”

He rejoins the other two boys who shoot curious looks Pony’s way, but he ignores them, looking back at his book. He’s not reading though. He can’t. Instead he’s listening to the boys playing cards, wishing more than anything that he could join them.

“I win.” Dark haired Johnny proclaims for the third time and Soda throws down his cards with a dramatic groan, while Darry just laughs. He seems real nice, not like the big boys at the group homes who liked to steal Pony’s books and shove him around. He hadn’t gotten mad at Soda or Johnny even once, not even when they were playing Go Fish and Soda cheated by peeking at his cards. 

“You little shark,” Darry ruffled Johnny's dark hair, the smaller boy flinching a little before leaning into the touch, “how do you keep doin’ that, huh?”

Johnny shrugged. “It’s a secret.”

“You’re cheatin’!” Soda accused.

“Am not!”

“Are too! No one wins as much as you.”

“I’m just good at cards without cheatin’.”

Soda huffed. “You’re lucky you’re my brother now or I’d fight you.”

“I’d win.” Johnny boasts, and suddenly he looks fierce, chin jutting and eyes fiery, like every kid in every home who fought grownups and just ended up beaten down worse. 

“That’s enough,” Darry pulls the two apart, practically picking them each up with one hand, “quit arguin' or I’m putin’ the cards away.”

“No!” Soda throws himself to the ground, arm draped dramatically across his forehead, “I’ll die of boredom!”

“Then sit up and be good,” Darry tells him, and Soda scrambles to do as he’s told. Pony feels his own spine straightening. It’s just because he’s tired, he tells himself.  It has nothing to do with wanting Darry to look at him with the same approval he looks at Soda and Johnny with. He needs to stretch out a bit, that’s all.

“Y’know,” Darry says, disarmingly casual, easily shuffling the cards the way Pony always wanted to but could never manage, the movement too deft for his clumsy fingers, “there's so many more games we could play with four players.” 

If he didn’t know better Pony would swear Darry was looking at him sideways as he said it, grinning conspiratorially like they were sharing a joke. 

“Euchre…gin rummy…spades…signals…”

Pony’s heart jumped. He loved signals. 

It was practically another invitation right? And Soda had said he could join anytime if he changed his mind…surely one game wouldn’t hurt. 

He scoots forward a bit on the chair, considering. 

“Well?” Suddenly Darry- handsome, cool Darry- is grinning right at him, one eyebrow raised, “You in or not?”

And well….that was an actual invitation. From a big boy no less! Usually boys like Darry wanted nothing to do with him.

Pony could feel what was surely a far too eager grin spreading over his face and he nodded, quickly taking a spot on the floor in between Soda and Johnny. Darry’s grin turned triumphant, like he was the one who’d just been invited to play cards by a cool stranger. 

“Nice. What’s your name kiddo?”

“Ponyboy.” He mumbles, bracing himself for laughter that never comes. Instead Darry just nods, starting to deal cards with ease. 

“Tuff name. I’m Darry, and this here’s Johnny.” 

Pony offered a shy smile in response to Johnny’s friendly nod, earlier vitriol forgotten. It wasn’t Johnny’s fault he was lucky. Pony shouldn’t hate him for it. 

“You already met Soda.”

Darry gives Soda a fondly exasperated look, and Pony focuses very hard on the cards being dealt so he won’t have to look at their faces.

Unsure of what to say, he just nods. Luckily, Darry keeps talking.

“Well Ponyboy, I reckon since you just joined you get to pick the game.”

“R-really?”

“Sure.” Darry smiled kindly. Golly he was nice. “We’ll play a few rounds and then switch it up if any of us are getting bored.”

“Can-” Ponyboy hesitated. Darry nods, encouraging him to continue, “can we play signals?”

“Sure. You okay to be on a team with me?”

“Yes,” Pony could hardly believe his luck. Not only were they playing his favourite game, but Darry wanted to be on a team with him!

“Ok,” Soda chirped, “me’n Johnny are going over there so you don’t listen to us pick our signals like cheaters!”

“Soda!” Mr Curtis warned.

“I’m bein’ nice!”

Pony giggled. 

“Ignore him,” Darry advised, scooting over to sit beside him, “I wish I could say he’s just bein’ crazy ‘cause he’s excited, but the truth is he’s always like that. He ain’t really mean though, just has too much energy.”

“I know,” Pony tells him, “I seen mean before. He ain’t it. If he was mean he’d have taken my book or followed me to the bathroom and put my head in the toilet.”

A horrified gasp makes him jump. He’d momentarily forgotten all about sunshiney Mrs.Curtis, but now she’s staring at him in horror, eyes filled with rage. 

What did he do? Did she not want him to be telling her nice golden sons about stuff like that? 

“I-I’m sorry I-” he can feel his ears burning and wishes more than anything he’d stayed on that hard plastic chair where he was safe instead of getting drawn in by the light of the family in front of him. 

“Whoa, hey,” Darry catches him by the arm before he can scramble to his feet, grip not bruising like he’s used to but gentle, reassuring, “where are you going? We haven’t picked a signal yet.”

His smile is so hopeful. Hesitantly, Pony settles back down. 

“Ok.”

“Well?” Darry nudges him gently, carefully. It seems to Ponyboy that someone so big shouldn’t be able to do that and not hurt him just a little bit, but somehow Darry manages it. “What signal do you think we should do?”

Pony glances across the room at where Soda is gesturing exaggeratedly and talking at Johnny a mile a minute.

“Something small,” he decides, “something they won’t notice.”

“Good thinking,” Darry’s approval feels like sitting in the sunshine and eating ice cream and reading a book all at once, “how about…rubbing our noses?”

He demonstrates, rubbing a finger under his nose like he’s scratching an itch and Ponyboy nods, copying the action. 

“Perfect.”

He raises his left hand then. Taps his ear. Waits a few seconds. Taps his ear again.

“What are you doing?” Darry wonders. 

“I have a trick,” Ponyboy informs him.

“Oh?” Darry’s raising a single eyebrow again, looking intrigued. A swell of unearned pride starts in Ponyboy’s chest. 

“Yep,” Pony nods, “they’re watching us right now.”

Darry follows his gaze across the room to where Johnny is watching them out of the corner of his eye, while acting for all the world like he’s still focused on Sodapop. 

“So,” Ponyboy continues. He taps his ear again, “if we do a fake signal now, like we’re practicing, and then do it while we’re playing they’ll call signal and get themselves disqualified and we’ll win.”

“Huh,” Darry reaches up and taps his own ear, “good thinkin’ kid.”

Pony glows.

“We’re ready,” Soda announces a second later, dragging Johnny behind him, “and we have the best signal ever. You’ll never guess it.”

“We’ll see.” Darry challenges, flipping the first card off the deck, and the game begins.

Pony checks his own hand. Two jacks, a two, and a seven. Deciding to go for jacks he passes the two facedown and slides it left to Johnny, picking up the ten Soda placed down for him on the other side.

He passes and trades cards for a few seconds, managing to pick up a third jack on the way. When it’s been long enough it’s not suspicious, he reaches up and taps his ear, trying to make it seem like he’s scratching an itch.

The trick works. 

“Block!” Johnny cries triumphantly, pointing at him and Pony grins, shaking his head. 

“Nope!”

“What?” That’s Sodapop, “We’re out? But-but I’m with Johnny! Johnny always wins!”

“Guess not this time,” Darry grins, raising a hand. It takes a second for Pony to realize he’s reaching out for a high five instead of to cuff him, but when he does he reaches out eagerly, tapping Darry’s palm with his own.

“How did you do that?” Johnny wonders, head tilted in confusion, “I saw you tapping your ear earlier when you were making your signal.”

“It was a trick!” Pony grins. Darry is pleased, and they just won a card game, and no one here has gotten properly mad at him at all. 

Johnny shakes his head, grinning ruefully. “Well it was a good one.”

Soda declared he wanted a rematch, so they played a few more rounds, until Johnny figured out their trick and then both teams had so many fake signals and everyone was too scared to block anyone and could hardly remember their real signals from their fake ones. Darry was just proposing they switch to playing crazy eights when Ms. Summers hurried out of the office, looking harried as usual.

“Oh! Ponyboy,” She looks surprised to see him sitting on the floor, “don’t go botherin’ these nice folks now. I know you’ve had a long day, and I promise I’m workin’ as hard as I can to figure things out so just sit tight and be good a few minutes longer. I just got a few more calls to make and I’ll get you some lunch, alright? C’mon and sit properly now, that’s a good boy.” 

She pulls him to his feet, not roughly exactly, but carelessly, the way he’s used to, and he ducks his head, shoulders curling automatically as she frog marches him back to the plastic chair in the corner of the waiting room she’d parked him in at seven o'clock this morning.

“He ain’t botherin’ us!” Suddenly Soda is on his feet, glaring at Ms. Summers. “We invited him to play. We’re havin’ fun.”

“He’s really no trouble,” Mrs. Curtis smiles, placing a hand on her son’s shoulder. Her voice is as sugar sweet as ever but there’s something hard in her eyes nevertheless as she stares Ms. Summers down, “the boys are all havin’ fun playing together and I have no problem keepin’ an eye on him for you. He’s a good boy, like you said.”

She turns the full force of her smile on him, her eyes suddenly all softness, and Ponyboy finds himself wondering what it would be like if somebody looked at him like that every day, like he was something instead of nothing.

“Well, if you’re sure, I suppose that's fine. You be good Pony,” Ms. Summers says, and then she’s gone again, back into the office, back to making phone calls to find someone, anyone, willing to take him in.

Pony stands where she left him, half dragged across the room, lost in the waiting room he’d spend what felt like half his life in.

“That lady,” Soda says, “was a bitch.”

Darry’s eyebrows shoot up, and Soda grins cheekily over his shoulder in a way that says he fully expects a reprimand, but to Ponyboy’s surprise Mr.Curtis just nods slowly.

“Y'know son, I think in this case you might be right.”

“Don’t encourage him,” Mrs. Curtis says, but it’s so half-hearted even Ponyboy can tell. Her eyes are fixed on Ms.Summers’ door, lips pressed into a thin line, and Pony gets the feeling she’s real mad but hiding it real well.

“She don’t know what to do with me,” Pony finds himself defending his social worker. She ain’t mean really, ain't even a bad person. She’s just busy. Too busy to really care. “It ain’t her fault. I cause her a lotta problems.”

“I have a very hard time believing that,” Mrs. Curtis says, “I don’t think you could cause problems if you tried.”

He could. He wasn’t like Curly from the group home, who did everything he possibly could and then some to cause problems, but Pony did create them sometimes. One time he’d burned Mrs.Delvine’s sheets when he was ironing because she hadn’t given him dinner the night before. And he’d put half a shaker of salt in Mr.Fuller’s soup after he gave him this stupid haircut. But he never tried to cause problems for Ms. Summers and he still caused them anyway.

He shrugs. “No one wants me. It’s her job to find someone who’ll put up with me. I can’t blame her for bein’ tired.”

“You’re still a little boy,” Mrs.Curtis shakes her head, and usually Ponyboy hates being called little but he finds he doesn’t mind too much when she says it, “she shouldn’t be takin’ any of her frustrations out on you.”

Pony wants to tell her that his own mother didn’t want to be stuck with him so he can hardly blame his social worker for feeling the same way. He wants to tell her about how tired he is and how much his head hurts and how hungry he is. He wants to tell her a lot of things. He doesn’t.

“Oh honey,” he doesn’t even realize he’s crying until he’s wrapped in a warm hug, held protectively against Mrs. Curtis’ chest, his sobs muffled against the stretched collar of her pretty yellow dress. He’s sure he must be getting snot on her, but she doesn’t seem to mind, holding him closer when he starts to squirm away and apologize, cooing to him until he settles down, “oh honey.”

She scoops him up then, because she’s a grown up and he’s still pretty small for six years old, and she sets him on her knee and kisses his forehead, and even if it won’t last and he will never feel this again after today, for once he knows what it’s like to be comforted and loved by a mother. 

Golly he’s tired.

“You just have a sleep now,” she pulls his head down to rest against her shoulder, running a gentle hand through his shorn off hair, “you just have a good sleep and don’t worry about a thing.” 

He feels his eyelids drooping. She drops a soft kiss on his forehead, her fingers never ceasing their soothing motions in his hair.

“Everything’s gonna be okay, baby,” he hears her say as he drifts off, “I promise. Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

He sleeps.

[rey-jake-therapist]

"Sauron is not enough evil and scary in Rings of Power"

Because he was scary in LOTR?! That thing is scary to you?

I'll tell you what : Sauron's eye in the movie NEVER scared me. Not even a little bit. I remember that the first time this big ridiculous eye appeared on screen, we all chuckled because... "That's it? that's Sauron?" . And the least that we can say, it's that in terms of personnality... Well he has none, right? The conversations must be nice:

"Hey Sauron, how are you today?

Sauron: RING! RING !!! AHHhrhzjjjjjjj RING!!!!!!!

Oh yeah, the ring, sure Boss. Anything else you need?

Sauron: RIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG!!!"

Fascinating.

I hate to break it to you, but movies Sauron is BORING. He's boring because he's hardly an entity. He's more a concept, and at the end everything about him rests on what the characters tell us about him: that he's extra evil, very cruel, a tyrant, obsessed by the One Ring, yada yada. But since he's no more than this giant eye on a tower, he never becomes tangible. We believe he's evil because that's what everybody says and also because of what his unpaid employees do, but he never gets to do anything himself, so we don't really see it.

Shelob scared me. The Nazguls terrified me. Heck, I was more afraid than Gollum than I was of Sauron. Don't laugh, did you see his teeth? I would be at least afraid to catch an horrible disease if he bit me...

In ROP, however, Charlie Vickers nails it as Sauron. He may not be literally on fire, but his evilness and his cunningness are palpable in season 2. I mean, the way he treats Celebrimbor?! If that's not sheer cruelty I don't know what it is, and it will get even worse in the episodes to come. Sauron doesn't take no for an answer. He tortures Celebrimbor, not physically but psychologically to bend him to his will. Since day #1, he lies constantly to Celebrimbor, flatters him, tells him what he wants to hear, gaslights him, isolates him from his people, nearly drives him to madness and only at the end, threatens to destroy his city if he doesn't do what he wants... That's not evil enough for you?? Oh, and add "creepy" on the list too, for this poor girl he keeps being weird with.

And as for the scary side of Sauron: Charlie proves to be an excellent actor when he manages to express his moments of contained rage through his micro expressions. For example, every time Celebrimbor resists him, his face changes enough for the audience to see he would tear the poor man's eyes out if he could, but it doesn't last long, blink and you miss it ! Same in the last episose 6, when King Durin refused to deliver more mithril to him; it was so obvious he wanted to kill the old man on the spot, but he's patient, he'll let the Balrog do it for him. Because yes, he's vicious and likes to keep his hands clean, so he tells animals do the job for him when he can!

But it's there, and we already got to see a glimpse of the sheer fury that can possess him when he loses control : in Numenor, when he beat the shit out of the men who had mocked him, and on the raft when Galadriel rejected him. That was probably just a forestate of what we can expect from the next seasons, folks.

By the way, I wrote all this with love. I love that TROP made Sauron tangible. I can see the threat he is now. I understand why everyone during the LOTR is terrified at the idea that he may come back. And I don't want anyone to fix him, mind you...

TROP Sauron, stay as you are, get much worse, PLEASE!

[aziraphales-library]

Hi!!! Do you have any fics where aziraphale is famous and crowley's just a "nobody"? preferably without explicit scenes, please :)) thank you so so much <3<3

Hello! We have a #famous aziraphale tag. Here are some fics in which Aziraphale is famous and Crowley is not. I could only find a couple of non-explicit fics, I'm afraid, but I'm pretty sure the smut is minimal/skippable in most of these...

First Thing In The Morning by FeralTuxedo (E)

Aziraphale Fell, erstwhile nerd, now successful fantasy author, is signing books at this year’s Heaven and Earth convention when he spots a red-headed man in the crowd. Someone he hasn’t quite been able to forget since his school days. And as luck would have it, Anthony Crowley, former troublemaker, now responsible adult, seems keen to reconnect.

Pride Month and Prejudice by TawnyOwl95 (E)

They say that you should never meet your celebrity crush. Especially when you know what an absolute bastard he is. So, of course, Anthony J. Crowley's participation in a queer adaptation of Pride and Prejudice for Pride Month has nothing to do with the involvement of A-lister A.Z. Fell. Crowley is only doing it so he has some gossip for his column. He didn't mean to get cast as Lizzy Bennet, he certainly didn't mean to be acting opposite Fell's Mr Darcy. And to make matters worse, Fell keeps staring at him...

Veni Vino Vegas (I Came, I Got Drunk, I Got Married) by A_N_D (T)

After a whirlwind drunken evening, author Az Fell came home from Rom-Con without his heirloom pinkie ring – but with a wedding license from a 24-hour Las Vegas chapel. Elsewhere, book fan Tony Crowley woke up with a hangover, vague memories, and a brand new ring he’s only seen in author photos. Mutually attracted, mutually terrified the other one thinks it was all a regrettable mistake, they turn to their dear but anonymous online friend to vent and ask for advice. …Maybe they should tell each other their screennames someday.

and now all of my garden is grown in lavender by ilikeblue (E)

Popular queer romance author, A.Z. Fell, has been lying about having a husband and a happy marriage for years. Longing to escape a string of failed relationships and looking for a fresh start, Aziraphale moves into the cottage left to him by his Great Aunt Agnes. When a TV adaptation of one of his books leads to sudden popularity and throws him into the limelight, his fans (and the press) are eager to catch a glimpse of Aziraphale's own mysterious leading man. Unfortunately, he still has to cast someone for that role. Enter the handsome gardener… Under Crowley's meticulous care the cottage's neglected garden slowly comes back to life, and Aziraphale finds himself writing the most important love story he'll ever write: his own

Once upon a time by elf_on_the_shelf (E)

‘Hello, my dear.’ Crowley bit his lip for a couple of seconds before he took a deep breath and just went with it. ‘Would you like to go for a coffee sometime?’ There was silence at the other end. Oh shit. ‘That was my friend messing around with my phone…?’ ‘You do realise that only works over text.’ ‘Myeah.’ Why was he like this? He had wanted to kill Bea for doing the same thing and yet here he was, doing the thing. At Bea’s behest, mind you. ‘I would love to go for coffee. Oh, and cake!’ Aziraphale is a very rich and successful writer. Crowley is at the worst possible moment of his life - living off Bee's couch and posting his mum's fairy tales on some random sites only to be ignored by everyone except one random person simply called A. This is a story about how both of our main protagonists get over the ghosts of their pasts, learn to work together and maybe - just maybe - fall in love in the process. Not to mention that all of the characters that we love (hate - looking at you, Gabe) make an appearance.

The Infernal Bodyguard by Santillatron (M)

Alistair Zira Fell is a popular author. Loved by everyone he meets. Well, almost everyone. Someone is trying to hurt him, and right now, he needs a bodyguard. Anthony J. Crowley is the best, although he doesn't work with celebrities. He has three rules. He never gets too close, never stays once the job is done, and Never Gets Involved. But this isn't a thriller. This, is a love story.

- Mod D

[fishymom-art]

Also since AO3 is a bit on the fritz, please accept my comment here

1) Human bites have a high chance of infection, and boy do the Preston adults look bite-able

2) Love Dipper being a wellspring of nerdiness!

3) may I join in the sport of Triangle Flustering?

4) And let's add another one to the ADAC (All Demons Are Cats) bingo with Bill bapping stuff off the counter and being a nuisance!

5) "Lizard drawn by a child", you know stuff is dire when BILL of all people goes for immediate insults

6) the plan hinges on a minuscule fact (kneecap possession), which is SO Bill... He just picks a detail and builds everything on it

7) "Minigolf with guns" is a TERRIFYING concept even without Cipher being the one to suggest it!

8) Scaring the crap out of rich douches, for a good cause! Chaotic good at it's finest!

9) From the ominous mood I am assuming the Theraprism is not simply requiring Bill for additional forms, do they?

Again, apologies for the format, but I don't want AO3 to eat the comment

Toodles, and goodnight!

I LAUGHED THROUGH THE WHOLE COMMENT AHHAHAHA THANK YOU SO MUCH

I love your comments and dw, your wouldn't drown - I read each and every comment I get!

Please, do bite Preston Northwest

Dipper is the same level of nerdyness as I am. All the nerdy things I like are automatically his special interests (2001: A Space Odyssey and 2010: Year We Made Contact are the movies ever, prove me wrong)

Yes, you can join the sport of Triangle Flustering. It is something commonly practiced among the Pines family and is a perfect family activity

I like thinking that if Bill can't cause chaos on big scale, he'll make sure to cause as much of it on a smaller scale to compensate. So yes, he is a cat

Hey, he insults everyone all the time! Gotta say though, this one is the least creative one

I also like the fact that I didn't even consider if the Guards do have kneecaps at all. So now it just looks like Bill basically assumes everyone who has visible legs has some sort of kneecaps, which in turn can be broken.

I would watch someone play mini golf with guns actually

Bill brought "eat the rich" to a whole new level

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[inkykeiji]

hello good morning let’s all give him the forehead kisses he deserves ♡(˃͈ દ ˂͈ ༶ )

[barghest-land]

the concept of dating scares me, what do u mean u met somewhere other than in the server of the dinosaur survival game

[builtintripping]

Hey! I love the concept of your forgor AU, so I was wondering...

We kind of know the reactions to the Timmy's friends. But what about Crocker and the rest of the Evil Syndicate? Would they be happy? Or weirded out? Disappointed?

ooooHHH INTERESTING QUESTION!! THANKS SO MUCH FOR ASKING!!

I already answered about Crocker's reaction, but basically he only vaguely rembers Timmy having Fairy Godparents. Da Rules affected him somehow but not as directly as on Timmy since he's still passionate about hunting fairies down whether Timmy's involved or not. Sooooo he's still salty around the kid. He just targets him less than he used to.

As for the rest, they probably don't even notice (or care) about Timmy forgoring lawl. If they did, it would be convenient for them cause that's one less ally of their nemesis should the Syndicate and the NU Gang ever engage in battle once again. Unless they actually turned into a new leaf, which could yield interesting results...

[hecksupremechips]

Honestly though I think it’s really a bad sign when I look at Shin Tsukimi and literally feel like he’s a self insert 😩

[monty-glasses-roxy]

For some reason, this round of meds (same dose and everything as last time) is making me have very violent Realisations and Remembering Things moments. And by that I mean the Thing I Forgot and/or the Realisations show up with a bat and see how hard they can make my brain hit the wall. So anyway.

YOU GUYS REMEMBER SPIKE THE WETFLOOR BOT??? YOU GUYS REMEMBER HER??? THE FIRST FAZBEAR ANIMATRONIC TO BE BORN FROM LOVE INSTEAD OF PAIN??? YOU REMEMBER HER???

CAUSE I JUST DID

[thatfaerieprincess]

Feel free to skip on past this, I’ve just gotta ramble for a minute bc i cant stop thinking about this kid from work last week. They were so much like me at that age (5-6th grade) that I didn’t know how to interact with them? I didn’t know what to say to them bc I don’t know what I needed to hear back then, what I would’ve WANTED to hear? What would I have even listened to? They were almost entirely silent and looked out at the world with a hesitant curiosity, but would pull back so fast as soon as you tried to interact w them. Little to no eye contact, face hidden in hair, always looking down, following others until they could strike off on their own and just quietly explore. Intently focusing on drawing any chance they got. We did an art project and they hunched over their piece the entire time and wouldn’t let any of us see it in progress, refusing to look up or acknowledge us if we asked to see it or to know what it was. Idk. I barely interacted w them while they were with us for those few days bc I didn’t know how? It almost hurt to try? It was like looking back into a time machine and i didn’t know how to tell them that it does get better,,, I still don’t even know if where I am is better, some days feel so unsure that I don’t think I’ve made any progress at all. But seeing that kid, idk. I’ve come pretty far. And it DOES get better. Maybe it’s not the best now, or even that great at all, but it’s better. I wish I could’ve told them but I don’t think they’d have wanted to hear it anyway

[rawliverandgoronspice]

Re: Descant and the rest of that series:

Is there a scene or idea you'd really-really love to include in it but can't, for whatever reason?

;__; I cherish this ask in my little hands like a soft bird, thank you so much for asking!!!

I mean, the answer is existentially horrifying, because: I have a full whole another story that goes into the "Child Timeline" version of the events of Descant (so the one that goes to MM's and Twilight Princess). I am unbelievably giddy about some of the ideas that are in there in terms of character development and just, Moments. It is the main daydream I am cursed with right now.

I have written test scenes and like, monologues and stuff that I just reread yesterday and went "shiiiit that goes haaard", so, pretty into it. It is roughly outlined.

The outline is 5k long.

So, beyond not really thinking it is realistic for me to dive into a 100k epic dark fantasy story about the nature of power and survival and responsability when I *already* have a series of science-fiction that I really love and want to finish going on, my ideas for this story are often incredibly visual, which is pretty rare for me; and so I have a lot of trouble imagining it as anything but a comic or a series, because of the external point of view and everything it allows that internal PoV (even multiple PoVs) can only approximate. Both options are literally ridiculous.

So I am indeed cursed to writhe about this story in my heart and be reasonable and *not* commit to it.

:(((((((

[carmenlire]

I can’t get Jaewon and the eighth sense out of my head because i see so much of myself in him. The way he’s always there for his friends, even to the detriment to himself. and it doesn’t have to be anything tragic. it’s going out and getting drunk and putting on that mask every day. it’s getting out of your own head long enough to realize that your friend is going through it and you need to care.

i’ve only watched it once but it’s in the way depression can, occasionally, manifest as a sort of manic episode. like you’re so empty and numb but 1) you can’t let anyone find out 2) you decide you’re going to be better. just like that, through sheer force of will. and so Jaewon smiles brightly and meets with friends and greets teachers and does a bang-up job of acting like he’s perfect he’s fucking perfect but inside there’s just nothing there. or maybe it’s not that there’s nothing there-- it’s that there’s so much but he can’t access it, he’s afraid to touch it because if he does then it will overwhelm him.

Jaewon has a lot of trauma and circumstances that definitely didn’t help his mental health but Jihyun was the breath of fresh air he desperately needed. and not in a Jihyun saved Jaewon kinda way but in the way that this new person broke up the monotony, showed him it was okay to reach out for help that, there was at least one person he didn’t have to hide from.

and just-- 10/10 to this show for showing that Jaewon very much struggles with depression-- he takes antidepressants, he sees a therapist, and even with those tools (and Jihyun) he isn’t magically cured. he can still sink low. that this kinda shit is cyclical and you can try your best but it can still be hard, you can still suffer, you will still have to drag yourself back up from underwater. but you can do it. because you’ve done it before.

[caffeinatedopossum]

Poetry prompt: under the sea’s eyes

Oo thanks for the prompt! I think I'm gonna have fun with this one

Under the seas eyes:

I gazed at the ocean

With eyes glazed over

Overwhelmed by regret

That I will never really know her

I wonder what she has seen

And where she has been

Guided by the moon

And enveloped by the wind

I wish I could speak this language

Of seafoam and waves

Oh, what poetry it must be

To harbor both so many lives and so many graves

And though her stormy depths

Are a place I dare not dive

I'll wonder all my life

Which one of us is more alive

I hope this reverence

Is enough on its own

To appreciate from the shore

The nature of things that can't be known

Feel free to give me more prompts if ya'll want! I really enjoyed this

[justinefrischmanngf]

I AM LOSING MY MIND WITH STRESS I HATE BEING AN ADULT WHO HAS A JOB THAT MEANS I NEED TO SOCIALISE I CAN'T DO THIS I SHOULD HAVE SAID NO !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ok i'm normal now